Mafia Education
by Canadino
Summary: Reborn knew Lambo was pretty useless when it came to anything Mafia related, like anything simple like shooting a gun. Apparently, the cow was also a fail Italian. FiveYL Reborn/Lambo, takes place during Suit.


**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: -

Not all ten year olds have an office all to themselves – on that note, not all ten year olds are skilled hitmen working for the Mafia. Common sense would further dictate that ten year old hitmen did not have the same problems as normal ten year olds; for example, normal ten year olds would not enter their own offices early in the morning to find the most annoying fellow ten year old sleeping on their expensive leather couch. Drool stains and the smell of cow would not be easy to remove. Reborn felt his lip curl as Lambo mumbled in his sleep. He would have shot at the intruder but that would put bullet holes in the couch.

Who on earth let the cow in? He would have to have a personal discussion with that individual, then with the head of security.

An hour passed as Reborn finished the files he would have to unload to (still useless even after five years) Tsuna later on in the day. That was a long enough grace period; he was such a nice boy. Seizing the gun sitting snugly in the holster around his adolescent waist, Reborn figured there was less chance of the gun going off if he threw it; and if it did, he'd just use Lambo's hide to make up for the damage.

He was expecting a hollow _thunk_ when the gun hit Lambo's forehead (square on, he was a good pitcher and the gun didn't go off; Yamamoto would approve) but he got a high pitched squeal instead.

"Ah! Ahh! That hurt!" Shooting up at the clutching at his forehead, Lambo's eyes sparkled with tears as he looked around to see who had abused him so early in the morning. "Oh! Good morning, Reborn!"

"Don't give me that crap. You look like a mess." How were people going to take them, the youngest members of the Vongola seriously if half of the equation had mess of unruly hair and a wrinkled, ruffled outfit? He held up his weight; no one dared mention that he looked out of place in a suit and Fedora with such young features. Reborn supposed failures were destined to be so no matter how long had passed; after all, Tsuna was a prime example. He watched disinterestedly as Lambo quickly tried to straighten himself out.

"What did you throw at me?"

"My gun. Give it over here."

Lambo scrambled to his feet (ten year olds weren't supposed to be that uncoordinated, but Lambo tripped over his feet in the process) and scooped up the gun, which he apparently needed both hands to hold. "Wow! I've never actually held a gun before!"

Did the bazooka not count? "Useless…then you probably don't know how to use it. Because I'm so considerate and I've got nothing to do, I'll teach you how to shoot."

Lambo stared at him, holding the gun haphazardly in a way that made Reborn want to shoot him to correct him. "Shoot? Shoot what?"

"A gun, numnuts. Hand it over." When Lambo didn't move, Reborn sighed and slid out of the seat (on another note, no one dared mention how he sat in a chair where his feet hovered a couple feet above the ground) and marched over to Lambo, holding out his hand. "You'll shoot your brains out; although that's not a danger since you don't have any."

"That's mean." Lambo thrust the gun into Reborn's hands in a fumbling manner, flushing when their hands touched. "If you teach me how to shoot a gun," he blurted out as Reborn returned the gun to his holster, "does that mean that we're friends now?"

Reborn glanced at him apathetically before heading for the door as Lambo trailed behind him. "I don't know why you're so worked up about that," he scoffed, leading the way down the hallway. "You're much more annoying now than when you wanted to kill me all the time."

Lambo blinked. "You _want_ me to kill you?"

"I'd rather you _try_ and kill me; at least that was good practice for me, even if it was easy. Now all you are is a blubbering mess saying this and that about being friends. I never took any interest in you and now all you want to know is if we can eat together. What were you doing in my office in the first place?"

Lambo saluted, suddenly looking proud of himself. "The wonderful and awesome Lambo got up early this morning so he could help you with your work! Because that's what friends do! But…" The hand in salute wavered. "Um…the wonderful and awesome Lambo got a little tired and…"

"That's what I thought." Tugging on Leon, who instantly turned into cushiony bat (he wasn't holding back for Lambo, but Tsuna would not want to clean up the guts of his Guardian in the hallway) which he smashed over Lambo's head. "Never come into my office without asking."

"I didn't touch anything!" Lambo insisted, as if that was the most of their worries.

"That's not the point, idiot." Pushing open the door to the shooting range, Reborn was relieved to see it was empty. He could shoot at Lambo to his heart's content without having anyone bother him. While the platform was much taller than either of them, Reborn hopped up and attached a new silhouette target to the reel. "Come on up here."

"But…" Lambo looked around nervously. "Are we allowed?"

"Stop acting like you're not part of the Mafia, you cow. Get up here."

"The great and spectacular Lambo doesn't give in to peer pressure…"

"Do you want to be my friend or not?" Reborn didn't want to have to play this card, but it worked like a charm. Scrambling up excitedly, Lambo grinned as Reborn handed him a rather intimidating shotgun. "Stop grinning like a weirdo and hold this."

"So now we're friends?" Lambo winced as Reborn shot at a space above his head. He got the point! To be accepted and respected as Reborn's equal, he'd have to learn to shoot first! Fumbling with the gun, which didn't fit in his hands, Lambo aimed it at the target and pulled the trigger.

"You idiot, you're holding it the wrong way and the gun's still in safety." Letting out another exasperated sigh, Reborn reached over and positioned Lambo's hands again. "Now stand up straight…" He pressed a hand against the slouch in the wrinkled jacket, which shot straight to attention as if someone had touched the boy with a live wire. "Pretend the gun is just a part of your hand." Reborn pushed down Lambo's shoulders, which had shot up near his ears the moment Reborn touched him. "You're not going to see straight if you're crying, you wimp."

"Agh…" He didn't know why he was so embarrassed. It wasn't the first time Reborn told him to do something. He wanted to be friends, yes! But he was friends with everyone else and being with them didn't make him feel nervous. Reborn wasn't even holding a gun. There was nothing to be worried about.

"Stop trembling or you won't aim right," Reborn scolded. "Since we're both not that tall yet, we've got to aim for something lower and handicapping. When they're down, we can aim to kill. Got to get them in the shins…" Reborn kicked Lambo in the shins for emphasis. "…or the knees…" Kick. Ouch! "…or the nuts, if they're a guy." Reborn smirked, which Lambo thought unusual for someone who wasn't a frequenter of juvenile humor. He flushed but Reborn didn't touch to demonstrate the last point.

"For Christ's sake, stop your blubbering." Rubbing his sleeve over Lambo's eyes, Reborn cleared up his vision for him as Lambo sobbed. Teaching a boy how to shoot shouldn't be that hard; after all, he himself was reaching for a gun when he was conceived! He couldn't imagine how Lambo was born into the Mafia business, not when he whined constantly about being close or refusing to touch any weapon. "Aim," Reborn ordered, turning Lambo toward the target and adjusting the angle of his arms. "Shoot."

Friends touched each other like that. His mommy and daddy were friends and they did silly things like kissy face and stuff. Was it weird to want to do that with Reborn? He'd seen people do that before and they seemed to enjoy it. It looked fun. When he'd asked Nana about it when he was younger, she said it was something older kids did. Well, he was older now, right? "Shoot," Reborn whispered in his ear, and Lambo squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

The recoil shot him backward into Reborn, who wasn't prepared to take all of Lambo's weight. After the loud _pop_, the two tumbled back onto the ground, the gun skittering out of Lambo's hands as he dissolved into another round of fresh sobs, fear from the loud sound and wish to be friends with Reborn mixing together. Where was his bazooka when he wanted it?

"You shot with your eyes closed, didn't you?" Reborn's voice chided, and Lambo discovered he was sitting on top of the disgruntled boy. "And you didn't know the gun would recoil. You're useless, you know that?"

"We're…we're friends now, aren't we?"

"Still going on about that?" Reborn grumbled, pushing Lambo off his stomach and pulling himself into sitting position, sliding his Fedora back on his head. Leon, who had been knocked clean off, slithered back into his place. "If I say we are, will you let up on it?"

Lambo didn't let him answer before thrusting his face at Reborn, sloppily kissing him while dripping tears all the while.

"What did you do that for?" Reborn asked, as Lambo pulled away, smothering his eyes with his cow print sleeves. "You're an awful kisser, anyhow. You can't be a full blood Italian and kiss like that."

"But…then…" Lambo watched as Reborn dusted himself off, straightening his tie like a sophisticated Mafioso he tried to be. "You taught me how to shoot. Then will you teach me how to kiss?"

"That's not…" Pertaining to the Mafia? Lambo would probably be on his case about that, if the friendship thing was any indication. He'd raised Tsuna to be a respectable mob boss, and they had cases like this in the family. Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered. The answer almost always came back that he was a ten year old hitman prodigy. That, or his hand was conditioned to shoot at any sudden movement.

Lambo was looking up at him pathetically, which wasn't anything surprising. Tsuna needed this sort of training, though, so it might be useful. "I don't know. Ask Tsuna for permission." He kicked Lambo anyway (he was the sort of person to kick someone when they were down. He excused this because he was the one who had knocked the person down in the first place). "Get up already."

[=]

"Tsuna, Tsuna, is it okay if Reborn teaches me how to kiss?"

Tsuna hid his face in his hands.

Owari

[=]

Note: Urag. This occurs during the same time my other fic, Suit, happens. I think ten years old R/L is cute, so I wrote this. I didn't think I'd be a fan of baby pairing, though. I'm weird like that.


End file.
